


The Quality of Mercy

by Prochytes



Category: Dark Matter (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-09
Updated: 2015-07-09
Packaged: 2018-04-08 11:43:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4303614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Prochytes/pseuds/Prochytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day in the life of an amnesiac (sort of) captain and her (sort of) crew.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Quality of Mercy

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for _Dark Matter_ to 1x04. Originally posted on LJ in 2015.

Morning

Three brought up the food thefts over breakfast.

The protein packs had started disappearing. You only had to look when the Android opened the pantry to see it. Three hated a complainer as much as the next guy (One choked on a mouthful, and reached for a glass of water). But there was, after all, a crazy little thing called “trust”. 

Still, Three wasn’t the man to point the finger. He was just putting the facts out there; it was up to others to draw their own conclusions. Three sat back in his chair. He spent the next five minutes staring at Six.

“Something on your mind, Three?” Six asked, as he set down his knife and fork. 

“Not at all, big guy. Just happy to see a man who enjoys his food.”

“It’s swill.” Six pushed his plate away from him. “Tastes like it was designed by someone who had had bacon described to him, but never eaten it.”

“Doesn’t stop you from putting away a mound of it, though.”

“I didn’t steal the packs.”

“You sure of that? A man your size must get the munchies, is all I’m saying.”

“You calling me a liar, Three?”

Four shoved back his chair and walked out of the room. Whatever you might think about that “masterless man” schtick, Two envied Four the amount of aggro that it spared him. She saw the tensing of muscle in Six’s massive shoulders; Five’s gaze darting from one face to another; Three’s insouciant stretch and oh-so-casual glance over his shoulder to the corner where Two knew that Lulu lurked. Two was always aware of where Three was in relation to his guns. These were the geometries that made her life.

Two cleared her throat. “I’m on it. The thefts will be resolved by this time tomorrow. Clear?”

Three opened his mouth as if to remonstrate, then seemed to change his mind. He looked at One, who flushed and bent over his plate. Two wondered what was going on there. Three shrugged.

“Clear.”

Afternoon

Even with mats down, the floor of the training room was not conducive to soft landings. Two hissed through her teeth as she scrambled back to her feet. 

“You O. K.?” Six’s tone was sympathetic, though he had not lowered his guard. 

“I’m fine.” Two rolled her shoulders and raised her fists again.

Solo work with the heavy bag was all well and good, but, when it came to sparring, Two suffered from a paucity of potential partners. Five, of course, was out of the question. She didn’t like violence (Two pushed away the thought of the casino) and, anyway, Two could hardly spar with her for fear of accidentally killing her. One was… complicated. Four was viable, but not readily to be divorced from his beloved blades; Two wasn’t a fan of swords, and suspected (on the basis of a few experimental passes with a katana to see whether they fanned the embers of conjectural muscle memory) that Portia hadn’t been one, either. Three, predictably, had turned her down. It would hardly suit what he was pleased to consider his Machiavellian power-politics to be repeatedly decked by his almost-boss.

That left Six, who was an amiable man, a good fighter, and built on a geological scale. Six was so mountainous that it would take Two’s best game to do him serious harm – which, if he behaved, he would never see. There was a difference between being an open-handed leader and letting people in on all the contents of your sleeve.

“Never seen you try that kick before,” Six commented, as they began to circle each other anew. 

Two incorporated a shrug into her bob and weave. “I’m branching out. As you just saw, it needs some work.”

“Uh-huh.” The big man’s eyes were shrewd. “Not a trick that the old you knew, I guess.”

“I guess.”

“I get it, you know. Wanting to have something that you don’t owe to Portia. But you need to cut yourself some slack, Two. You don’t always have to be better than her.”

“I kinda do.”

Six sighed, and renewed his hunt for an opening. “I didn’t take the food.”

“I know. And I know who did.” 

Evening

“Five. Hi. Sorry for dropping by unannounced. Do you mind if we come in?”

The girl frowned, but shrugged and stepped aside. Two and the Android filed past her into the bedroom. 

“What’s up?”

Two scanned the room, before turning back to Five. “Where is it?”

Five coloured. “I don’t know what you mean.”

Two sighed. “You’re the only one who could jimmy the lock on the pantry. You’re also a hundred pounds, soaking wet, and I know that you hate the protein packs as much as the rest of us. Where is it?”

Five’s shoulders slumped. “She’s under the bed.”

Two bent to follow Five’s pointing finger and craned her head. From the shadows, a pair of round appraising eyes looked back at her. 

“She’s a cat,” said Five.

“Thanks for that, Five. There are one or two fragments of natural history that I do retain from before the stasis.”

“I found her shivering in one of the holds, when I was exploring. Can I keep her? Please? She really doesn’t eat all that much. I was just stock-piling, to make sure.”

Two glanced up at Five’s expression – defiant, but hungry for approval. The girl’s hero-worship made her apprehensive, even if it had taken a knock from… recent events (Two thrust away the memory of the casino again). For Two, still blocking out on the _Raza_ ’s coarse canvas what she thought she knew about the woman she had become now, it was an added strain to live up to Five’s expectations. Two considered for a moment, and turned to the Android. 

“Do we have mice on this boat, as well?”

“Somewhere between one and two thousand. My model is necessarily stochastic. They subsist upon synthetic food fragments accumulating in the holds, a common phenomenon in repurposed spaceships, and more than enough to support a population of wee, sleekit, cowran, tim'rous beasties.”

Two stared at her. The Android smiled. 

“It has been my observation that this crew, One and Three in particular, communicate most readily through a code of cultural allusions. In this instance, my allusion was drawn from…”

“Thank you, Android. That’s very helpful, even if it does make me wonder, again, whether they were on drugs when they were building you.”

“That information is not available.”

“Colour me unsurprised.” Two looked back at Five. “The cat stays. But she earns her keep. And the Android scans her regularly, in case she’s carrying anything unpleasant.”

Five’s face lit up. “Thank you.”

“And you apologize to the others at breakfast tomorrow. This isn’t a ship where we keep secrets from each other.”

Five’s expression was sceptical. 

“Not ones with fur, anyway.” Two rested her hand beside the bed. The cat ghosted out, and bumped her head against it. 

“You’re good at wrangling cats,” said Five.

“I’ve had some practice.” 

Night

The _Raza_ had an observation deck. Its discovery had been one of the windfalls that were part of the ship’s erratic bounty to her inhabitants. Two didn’t know what you actually saw streaming past outside in FTL; she had considered asking the Android, but suspected that she would not understand the answer. Nonetheless, she found the patterns soothing, and had taken to stopping by before she turned in for the night. 

On this occasion, the deck was already occupied. One sat in an easy chair, facing the distended, starry view, with one of his dog-eared volumes in his lap. He looked up as Two walked in.

“How goes the hunt for the food thief?”

“It’s done.”

“Was it Five? No, don’t tell me; it can wait until the morning. I like surprises.” 

“All things considered, that’s just as well.” Two took up a stance in front of the view. “What’s up between you and Three?”  


One shrugged. “Just his winning personality, as always.” Two knew that this was a lie, but she was weary. The lie could be tomorrow’s problem. One waited just long enough not to make it look as though he was changing the subject before he spoke again: “Protein Pack Prison Break aside, how has your day been?”

Her back still ached from the botched kick. “Could have gone better.”

“You’re too hard on yourself.”

“You’re the second person today who’s said that.”

“Maybe we’re on to something, then.”

Two shrugged. “Can’t see what I’ve done to deserve an easy break.”

“ _Though justice be thy plea, consider this, that, in the course of justice, none of us should see salvation_.”

“That from your book?”

“Uh-huh.”

“It’s pretty. Who said it?”

“Some lady called Portia, after she turned into someone else.”

Two smiled. “Salvation, huh? Sounds like a tough gig.”

“We’re tough people,” said One, and turned a page. 

FINIS

**Author's Note:**

> The Android alludes to the opening line of Robert Burns' "To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough". One quotes from _The Merchant of Venice_ IV.1.198-200.


End file.
